


Waking Up

by wolfy_writing



Series: The Plan [2]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to The Plan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up

"Nobody died, Jane. That's the first thing you have to understand. Nobody died." Theresa Lisbon drew a deep breath and tried not to look at the hospital bed, and tried not to think about _why_ she wasn't looking. "Cho was grazed by a bullet to his shoulder. He was back to work as soon as the bleeding stopped. Van Pelt had a near-miss, but I think they underestimated her. By the time they went for Rigsby, our people were ready."Not as ready as she'd hoped, or the bomb would never have gotten anywhere near her car, but Jane didn't need to here that just yet. "We're all safe. I was worried sick about you. And then I saw..." She bit her lip until her voice was steady again. "They've got you on antibiotics now, to fight off the infection. They think that once you're a bit healthier physically, you might...you might feel more like talking."

There was a knock on the door. "Boss?" Cho stepped inside. "I can stay with him if you need to go home."

Lisbon looked up. "I'm fine." She stifled a yawn.

"You should get some sleep. I can stay with him until Van Pelt gets here in the morning."

"What, you worked out a schedule?" Lisbon smiled faintly.

Cho nodded. "We drew it up in the cafeteria after that nurse chased us off." Four people in the room after visiting hours was apparently against hospital policy. It had been all Lisbon could do to persuade the nurses to let her stay by herself. "The hospital staff said as long as it's only one of us at a time, they'll allow it. You can go home. We're not leaving him alone."

"Fine." Lisbon stood. "I'll go home and you call me when it's my turn."

She walked to the door and stopped. "Just...keep talking to him, okay? Remind him that everyone's safe. I think he needs to hear that."

"Understood."

\---

There was pain in his hands and pain in his leg. That was good. Pain was solid, unmistakeable. It gave him an anchor. He could cling to it.

They were giving him drugs for it. That wasn't good. Drugs weakened the pain, cut the anchor. He could get lost like that. Which wouldn't be so bad, except he'd eventually find his way back. And it would be so much worse than he could bear.

There was a woman outside, telling him he must feel powerless, but he could fight...no, wrong hospital. Telling him everything was okay.

That must be the drugs. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

\---

"Lisbon said to tell you everyone's okay. She probably already told you. It's true. Everyone's fine." He rubbed the spot on his shoulder where the bullet had grazed him.

Cho shifted nervously in his chair.  "There were a few close calls, but we handled it. We spent most of the time looking for you."

\---

Intermittently, someone came by with new drugs to take the pain away. Jane considered asking them not to, but everything seemed like so much effort. And they probably wouldn't listen to him anyway. In the first hospital - he was almost certain this was a different hospital - he'd tried explaining about the need for pain and blood to mark the walls, and that just got him more drugs.

Pain and blood and marking the walls. Maybe there weren't different hospitals. Maybe it was all one thing, an eternity of loss in hospitals where they kept him too drugged and wouldn't let him bleed. Maybe it never ended and this was his punishment.

The voice next to him was telling him a different story, but he ignored it.

\---

"I supposed everyone told you the story by now," said Van Pelt. She hadn't meant to get into this, but after two hours of talking without a response, she was running out of things to say. "I didn't kill him or anything. Not...not this time. I just...I think the guy who went after me expected me to be asleep, so he came after me with a knife. I knocked his head in with the bedside lamp."

She shook her head.  "Cho told me good work.  I know I need to be prepared for that kind of thing, and I'm willing to do what it takes to defend myself or others, but I don't ever want to be _comfortable_ hurting someone. It doesn't feel as bad as it used to, and I don't want to turn into the kind of person who doesn't feel bad at all."  She picked at a bit of dirt under her fingernail.  "I don't want to be the kind of person who _likes_ it."

\---

His head was feeling a bit clearer, clear enough that he could actually tell there was a fever muddling his thinking. The antibiotics Lisbon mentioned must have kicked in.

No, not Lisbon. He'd failed her. He'd promised her that he'd always save her, and he'd failed. He'd failed everyone, and with Red John, there was only one consequence for failure.

He shouldn't have gotten close.  It was safer for everyone if he was a man with nothing left to lose.

\---

"You scared us," said Rigsby. "You really scared us. When I saw you being unloaded from the ambulance I thought...well, you're already starting to look better. I'm sure you'll be fine. Just hang in there."

He drew a deep breath. "Look, I don't know what he did to you while you were in there, but whatever it is, we'll catch him and make him pay. I promise."

He swallowed hard and looked over at the bed. "Now you _have_ to wake up. You're not going to want to miss that."

\---

It was getting harder and harder to tune the voices out. Harder to tell himself that they weren't real. He knew, though, that he had to try.

If he kept reminding himself that he'd failed them and he'd lost them and they were never coming back, he'd eventually be able to get up and get back in the fight. Alone, this time. With truly nothing to lose. He could come back and keep fighting purely for vengeance.

But if he let himself believe that there were people waiting for him, that he could fail and not lose everyone, that he wasn't alone...eventually, the truth would reassert itself and it would be so much worse because he'd let himself hope.

\---

"The doctors...they say you should be able to talk. Physically, you should be able to say something." Lisbon began pacing the room. "I know...you said you spent time in a locked ward before. I didn't tell anyone. If you don't come out of it soon, I may have to. It might be useful in figuring out a way to help you."

She stopped and clasped her hands gently around the cast on his right hand. "I don't know what you're afraid might happen if you start talking, if it's being overwhelmed or not being in control or what, but whatever it is, I've got your back. We all do. We're here for you, no matter what, and we'll be here for as long as it takes. I'll be here for as long as it takes."

\---

The hand on his arm was holding onto him lightly, carefully, but it felt surprisingly solid. Real.

Like an anchor, he thought, then shook the idea off. No, he couldn't attach himself like that to Lisbon. He'd broken her. He'd broken too many people.

Still, she felt far too solid for a fever dream.

\---

"It seems like a good idea at the time," said Cho, "going quiet, keeping it to yourself. Not bothering other people. But...it's possible to get sloppy that way. Make mistakes. And the mistakes don't just affect you, they affect everyone. It's...useful, sometimes, to tell people things. They can help you gain perspective. Sometimes they see things you miss. And in the end, it works better."

He coughed awkwardly, and looked up in relief as the door opened.

"Hi," said Van Pelt.

"How is he?" "His fever's gone down, and the infection seems to be retreating. He still hadn't spoken yet."

\---

Maybe, Jane thought, just maybe, it was possible to fail and not have anyone he loved die for it.

Maybe there was such a thing as second chances.

\---

"...they're all at the office, although officially our team isn't even investigating this, since you're one of us. They have a different team assigned to everything, but..."

"Grace?" asked Jane.

Van Pelt froze. "Yes?" she said, in the most natural-sounding voice she could muster.

"I'm tired."

"Oh. Right. I...do you want me to..." She stood, looking back and forth between his bed and the door.

"Stay. Please."

She sat down in the chair, very quietly, and waited while he closed his eyes.

\---

Patrick Jane had a rare night of dreamless sleep.

\---

"Flowers?" Jane smiled up at Lisbon. "You shouldn't have."

"These were sent to the office." Lisbon put the bouquet by the window. "I'm not sure who from. So," she asked, still fiddling with the vase, "are you...how are you?"

"Better," he said. "A very nice doctor came by and told me that I'll probably get to keep my leg. Which is good news, as I'm very attached to it."

Lisbon still didn't turn. "

That was a pretty terrible joke, but in my defense, I think there's still some morphine in my system."

"The hospital's going to have you meet with a psychiatrist" said Lisbon, "and I think you should take it seriously."

"A shrink? Come on."

"Yes, a shrink. You were locked in a cell for weeks, tortured, catatonic - "

"I had an infection! And I wasn't tortured!  He didn't do anything to me."

" - and you have a lot of injuries that were pretty clearly self-inflicted."

Jane was silent.

Lisbon turned. "Why did you wrote 'I can't save anyone' on the wall?"

"It was a ploy. I was trying to feign a suicide attempt in order to trick the guard into rushing into the cell so I could get past him and escape" He ducked his head. "It didn't work."

"And your hands?"

"Is there a card?" he asked.

"What?"

"On the flowers. Is there a card?"

"Are you avoiding my question?"

"Yes." Jane sighed. "Look, I will talk about this if you want, but not right now. Please."

"Okay. We _will_ talk later." She turned and pulled a small envelope out of the flowers. "Um, do you want me to..."

He held up his casts. "Go ahead and open it. It's not like I can."

She opened the card and looked at it. Then she bit her lip.

"What is it?" Jane asked.

"Um..."

"What?"

"I don't think..."

"Lisbon," said Jane, in a dangerously calm voice, "what does the card say?"

"Dear Patrick. Did you enjoy my little test run? Don't worry, when it comes time to finally dispose of your team, I'll make it a bit more special. Yours, always. Red John."


End file.
